Scenes From a Year in Reverse
by Nwfanmega
Summary: A chance meeting between new neighbors leads to a year of healing, discovery and love. Fluffy with a pinch of angst.
1. Marry Me

**A/N** : I challenged myself to write something short – 1500 words or less per chapter – and sweet with just a sprinkle of angst. Since this will be 6 chapters instead of my intended 5, technically, I failed. Lol.

In any case, thanks for reading!

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"Marry me," Rick rasped, lazily dragging a fingertip through the sparse strip of hair covering her slick, satiated mound.

" _Now_?" Michonne asked, still panting as she turned her head to stare into the infinite depths of his electric blue eyes.

His fingers continued their journey, trailing up the now noticeable swell of her stomach and finally landing on her bellybutton. He lingered, drawing tender circles around her navel as she writhed beneath his touch. She was ticklish, but Rick was well-versed in all things Michonne and knew a delicate hand would generate an entirely different sensation. Carefully, he studied her, watching her abs contract as reverberations from her orgasm drove a persistent hum through her core.

"Asked before," he replied, shrugging as he leaned down to drop a sweet kiss on her protruding belly. "Won't quit 'til I get a 'yes.'"

"I've _never_ said 'no' Rick," she countered, turning to her side and reaching out to caress the slightly prickly hairs on his chin. "You know that. It just feels… I don't know. Maybe too soon?"

She shook her head, trying to make sense of the muddled thoughts racing through her mind. The year had been a whirlwind. Finding love after Mike's death had seemed improbable, but the fates had decided otherwise. So, here she was, building a home for herself and Andre with this charming man and his kind-hearted son.

Fear of enduring such a loss again overwhelmed Michonne, holding her back from fully giving into the happiness a life with Rick and Carl offered. But as she looked into his adoring eyes, realization hit her. She _trusted_ this man and knew what she felt for him was real. Maybe Mike's parting words had been prophetic after all.

"Haven't exactly said 'yes' either," he stated, lifting himself up and settling on his knees next to her. "I want this with you, especially now."

Softly palming her belly, he gazed down at her, losing himself in the stormy tempest of her eyes as she furrowed her brows in concentration. It had been the most exhilarating, confounding, joyful year of his life. In his wildest dreams, he couldn't have predicted that the simple act of taking Carl trick-or-treating in their new neighborhood would lead him to the love of his life and finally allow the wounds of his betrayal to heal.

"I'm pretty sure you know my answer," she said, sitting up and gesturing to her belly. "You're stuck with me."

He chuckled, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes, his broad smile only making him more handsome. Before Mike, marriage hadn't been on her radar, though her parents had given her a long, healthy example. She'd known for months she'd marry Rick. It was just a matter of time.

"Besides, we've got a houseful of friends and family out there and we've been in here for 20 minutes. What do you think _they'll_ think we're doing? Ugh. I'm so embarrassed. How'd I let you talk me into this?"

"You know how," he grinned, reaching over to pull her hand from her face. "Marry me and we'll go back out there _right_ now."

"Look how chunky I am already!" Michonne exclaimed, rolling her eyes as Rick lasciviously looked down her body. "You should be scared of what this'll look like in a few months."

"Nah," he said squeezing her waist as he leaned in for a kiss. "You look beautiful with some meat on your bones."

"How do you figure?" Michonne asked, peering at him skeptically. "You looking forward to rolling me down the aisle? Be _very_ careful how you answer."

"You were _such_ an itty bitty thing when I met you. The wind coulda' blown you away. Been tryin'a fatten you up for the past year."

"You can stop now," she laughed, patting her belly. "Mission accomplished. _Now…_ we just need to tell the boys."

Andre had been satisfied with 'long day at work' and 'too many pancakes' in response to why Mommy was _so_ tired and how come he couldn't get his little arms as far around her as he used to. Carl, who'd witnessed Lori's recent pregnancy, had spent the past week side-eying them both, clearly on the cusp of just asking.

Rick wanted to tell everyone, but a more cautious Michonne insisted they wait before sharing their unexpected, but very much welcome surprise. Now past the four-month mark and settled into domestic bliss in Michonne's larger home, it was time to break the news to their boys.

Andre would be elated, having already declared himself 'over' being the younger sibling. He _adored_ Carl, but as of late, he'd taken to insisting on a younger sibling of his very own. They'd explained to him it would be a wait, but the universe had opted to grant Andre's wish earlier than they had anticipated.

"We gotta get back out here before someone comes looking for us," Michonne yawned, coaxing her tired body to the edge of the bed.

Rick got up, pulling her with him. Retrieving her costume from the floor, he helped her shimmy into the red latex bodysuit, hypnotized by the glorious jiggle of her breasts as she did so. Sasha had done it again. Another stunning creation, certainly worthy of _Misty Knight_ herself.

After Rick zipped her up, Michonne eagerly turned around to watch him slip back into the Captain America outfit Carl and Andre had insisted he wear; he looked delicious.

She decided they probably had ten more minutes before time away from their _own_ party would drift into scandalous territory. Looking Rick up and down, his crooked smile beaming back at her as he cocked his head to the side, she couldn't deny herself this treat.

"Didn't you _just_ say we had to get back out there?" he asked, dropping his mask to the floor, wrapping an arm around her waist, and walking them back to the bed.

"Say it again," she whispered, reaching down to take firm hold of his hardening member.

"Marry me," he growled, running his tongue across the edge of her ear as he dropped to the bed and pulled her into his lap.

"Yes."


	2. The Beach House

Rick's fingers interlaced with Michonne's as he dragged her down next to him, pushing her back onto the beach chairs stationed under the large umbrella-covered cabana they'd rented earlier that morning. She went willingly, giggling under the wide-brimmed straw hat that partially obscured his view of her radiant smile. She leaned against his chest, casting her eyes to the shore and watching as Carl dutifully took Andre by the hand and led him into the waves gently lapping at the shore of their nearly empty strip of sand.

He turned to look at her serene face coyly grinning back at him. His eyes moved downward, taking in the smooth, velvety skin wrapped around the stark white bikini paying homage to her sinfully curvy figure. He could drink from her all day long and never quench his thirst.

The idea to rent the little beach house on Tybee Island had been hers. Fall's chill had yet to take hold as heat from the late summer sun still hugged the coastline, beckoning visitors late into the season. And with only one more week before Carl's first day of third grade, Michonne had convinced Rick this would be the _perfect_ time for Andre's first trip to the ocean.

With Carl and Andre fully engaged in looking for interesting shells and filling buckets with sand for a highly anticipated sandcastle, Rick turned his attention to Michonne, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and landing a kiss on her forehead. He exhaled slowly, the soft breeze from the sea lulling him into a perfect state of wellbeing.

"I guess I never really thought about it," Michonne sighed, pushing her hat back on her head to look up at him. She'd interrupted his thoughts and drawn them back to the question he'd asked as they walked hand-in-hand down the trail to the beach. "When all you feel is sorrow, it's hard to envision anything else."

Rick nodded, quietly waiting for her to continue.

"Mike was my _everything_ for so, so long. I– I guess I couldn't picture anyone else but him being there for me and Andre. It seems silly because, life _does_ go on, whether you want it to or not. I know that now."

Though their time together hadn't been long, Michonne already couldn't fathom her and Andre's lives _without_ Rick and Carl in it. The bits of joy that had begun showing up at the edges of their lives over the past year had gotten remarkably sharper with the addition of the Grimes boys. A pang of guilt billowed in her gut as she considered, if they continued on what seemed to be their destined path, Andre would have only true memories of Rick and none of Mike. She wasn't quite sure what to do about it.

"When he died, I figured it would just be me and Andre. But now…"

"But now…?"

"Now… _maybe_ sometime in the future, I don't know when though. What about you? After Lori and all that… mess. Everything she put you through. You'd _really_ want to do it all over again?"

Rick took a deep breath, eyes turning to the shore where Carl and Andre frolicked. The ache of Lori's infidelity lingered. Waking up from a coma to find your wife has debased her vows would bring most men to their knees. But finding she'd done so with his friend– the brother he'd known since the very first day of kindergarten? That had nearly ruined him.

"Carl makes it all worth it," Rick murmured, looking out into the water to see the compassionate, generous soul he'd helped create wrap his arms around Andre, who even with swimming lessons, was still a bit skittish about open water.

"I wasn't a fool. Shane's had a crush on Lori since the 9th grade. I knew it, she did too. But–"

"But you never imagined he'd shoot his shot when you were unconscious," she concluded, pulling his arm across her chest.

Rick chuckled, more than a little tickled by the furious look on Michonne's face. She hadn't even _been_ there, but she was _still_ fired up about how much pain Lori's unfaithfulness had caused him. A warm, soothing aura flowed through him as he thought about the care and comfort this woman and her son had openly and willingly shared with himself and Carl.

"But then I met you, and trusting you felt so easy that it seemed silly to question it."

"A widow and a toddler?" she queried, raising an eyebrow. "You never even _considered_ running for the hills? I mean, I definitely would have understood…"

"Nope. _Never_."

Truthfully, he had been over Lori long before he opened his eyes in that hospital bed. And if he were being completely honest with himself, Shane's disloyalty almost hurt worse. He and Lori had stopped being as good to each other as they had been at the start and in a sense, he felt sadder about losing Shane's friendship than his wife's companionship.

"You know havin' to deal with Lori and Shane is _not_ my favorite thing. I don't relish it, but I'd do _anythin'_ for Carl. He's got a new baby brother now and he's _excited_ about it. I know he tries to hide it from me so I won't feel sad, I guess. I want him to be ok showing _all_ his emotions. I don't want him burdened by my shit. It ain't fair."

"You're a wonderful father Rick, Carl knows this and so do I."

It had been two and a half years of torture, but Rick had gotten to a place where he could at least be _cordial_ to Lori and Shane. He'd vowed never to make Carl a pawn in adult games.

Luckily for both on them, a random knock on a stranger's door on Halloween led him to Michonne. He hadn't even meant to stop at her house. Carl had wanted to drive out to where his new classmates had insisted was the 'best haul', but Rick decided that they should stick with their new neighborhood.

And nearly nine months later, here they were. Together, building… _something_. He knew she was scared. Maybe he was too. But not about committing to her. He's known she was _it_ for him soon after they'd met. But she hadn't been ready, so he'd been patient. She was more than worth the wait.

"Ready to go in?" Rick asked, standing and attempting to pull her up with him. "We promised the boys an _epic_ sandcastle."

"In a minute," she groaned, her face graying a bit as she clutched her stomach. "This is the _last_ time you convince me to eat food off a rolling cart on a pier. I don't even _remembe_ r the last time I've been this sick."

"You oughta blame your delicate constitution," Rick teased, bending to kiss her pillow-soft lips. "Carl and Andre and me are _just_ fine."

He stroked her cheek, gazing into her eyes as she tilted back the brim of her hat to look up at him.

"Marry me Michonne Anthony," he stated, finally getting a good look at her beautiful face.

"You reckon I should, Rick Grimes?" she asked, tilting her head as she blocked the sun with her hand. "How are you so sure about us?"

"I _reckon_ 'cause I can't imagine any more days without you as my wife."

"Then I guess we'll just have to see," she murmured, waving him off as he ran down the beach and towards their sons.


	3. Do You Prefer?

**A/N** : This was originally posted as a one-shot for a _Dirty Question_ prompt (Do you prefer your women shaved or natural?) from weretheoneswhowrite. Check out their tumblr and ff pages!

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They'd barely made it through the front door before Rick had Michonne pressed up against the console in her foyer, boldly gripping her hips as he angled her onto the table. Frantic, lust-driven hands knocked over a brushed-nickel decorative bowl, scattering its contents onto the floor with a clatter.

He paused for a moment, rising back up to smile down at her. She was breathtaking. With fingers dancing across the satiny fabric of her honey-yellow maxi dress, Rick lifted her onto the now cleared table, seizing her lips once more.

Her knees instinctively parted to accommodate him. Deliberately, his tongue marked a trail from her lips to the sweet spot where her neck and shoulder met. He inhaled deeply, taking in the intoxicating scent of her floral perfume layered over their commingled arousal.

Michonne, suddenly feeling less brave about taking this leap, covered her mouth, attempting to conceal the nervous laugh threatening to escape her lips. Tenderly, Rick halted his movements and pulled her hand away.

"Don't have'ta do that," he cajoled, leaning into Michonne as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're safe with me."

She nodded, holding his gaze. He snaked his arm around her waist, drawing her towards him and stopping only when her bottom reached the edge of the table. He leaned in for another kiss, pushing her torso against the wall until the back of her head tapped the mirror above the console. She moaned, grasping the shearling collar of his coat as his hands moved around her hips to palm her ass.

His tongue sought hers, stoking the fires as he covetously drew the air from her lungs. Ravenous, he pulled up her spaghetti-strapped dress, letting it pool around her waist and exposing her supple, glossy thighs. She gasped as he dragged his rock hard erection across her core, rocking against him as the delicious friction nearly pushed her over the edge.

"Bedroom," she purred, running her fingers through the freshly shorn locks at the nape of his neck.

Steadying himself, he rested his hands on her thighs while toeing off his boots. Tight coils of want loomed over him, threatening to unspool as his hands ran across her impossibly soft legs. She slipped out of her strappy sandals, wrapping her long legs around his waist as he lifted her up and walked them to her bedroom.

He paused at the doorway, eyes meandering around the moonlight-drenched room. He'd been inside her home countless times by now, but _never_ like this. Neat and beautifully decorated in shades of gray and muted teal, her bedroom suited her perfectly. He stepped in, sinking into the plush carpet as he made his way to her bed.

Gently, he laid her down at the foot of the bed, watching her with lust-filled eyes as she closed her own and nested into the decorative pillows strewn across her duvet. He slid his hand up her dress, stopping to hook his thumbs on either side of her panties; she quivered as he slowly inched them down.

She opened her eyes, watching as the lacey pale yellow thong she'd bought special for their date moved over her knees, down to her ankles, and onto the floor. As he pushed the dress past her thighs, Michonne stopped his hand. Her anxiety rose as Rick, confusion printed across his face, looked up to meet her gaze.

"I've got an embarrassing question," Michonne timidly stated, eyes darting to the ceiling as Rick looked up from between her legs. "Do you prefer your women shaved or natural?"

She regretted having allowed Sasha to talk her into a 'just in case' full Brazilian before her first official date with Rick. Since she wasn't sure what he liked, maybe she should have left well enough. Rick smiled up at her, causing a giggle to escape as she released his hand.

He looked down at her mound, mesmerized by the blemish-free, silken skin covering her most private of parts. He covered it with his large hand, using his thumb and forefinger to pull her lips apart. It'd been a long time for him… for both of them, but he was more than ready to take this step.

He dipped down to kiss her; she trembled as the coarse scratch if his light beard tickled her inner thighs. He landed kisses all across her glistening pussy as she squirmed beneath him. Placing a heavy arm on her stomach to still her, his mouth went to work dismantling her, piece by piece.

Her legs curved around his shoulders, heels grazing the curiously rough surface of the scars covering his back. For a moment, her arousal abated as she contemplated the thought of him in such danger ever again. The image of waking to a knock on the door informing her that he had _again_ been shot in the line of duty caused her heart to quicken and her mind to wander.

He'd already assured her his new role as County Procedural Instructor was _permanent_. He had no desired to don his Deputy's hat since, as he had confidently declared, he now had not only Carl to think about, but herself and Andre as well. That sweet sentiment pulled her back into the moment, her attention refocused on what he was doing to her body.

His tongue paved an intricate pattern across her clit, licking off her sweet, sticky nectar. Inhaling her heady aroma, he wrapped his lips around her clit, bringing his other hand to gently probe her with one finger, then two.

With his other hand firmly on her belly, he gazed up as she arched her back off the bed. His expert tongue went to work, drawing mind-altering moans from her lips as Michonne struggled to temper her body's overwhelmed reaction. He could feel her pulsing against his tongue as she gripped the sheets, trapping his head between her thighs. If this was the end, he would gladly go.

He continued the onslaught, her moans and the slick, wet sounds of his fingers acting as the room's only soundtrack. He sensed her splintering, her stomach contracting beneath his arm as he flicked his tongue against her almost painfully swollen clit. She shattered, the force of her climax lifting her from the bed.

He watched as she leaned back against the pillows, eyes closed and heaving chest. She opened them to return his gaze, her jumbled feelings rendering her practically incapable of speech. Her body hummed as she looked down at his hypnotic smile.

"Now, _what_ were you askin'?" Rick queried, a sly grin on his face as he peered up at her.

"Don't remember," she murmured, drawing a hand over her satiated face.

"Well, _if_ I heard you right, then I guess I prefer _you_ , anyway I can have you."


	4. Happy New Year

"You doin' alright?" Rick quietly asked, steadying the swaying porch swing as he sat down next to Michonne.

"Sorry about that," Michonne sniffled, turning her head and giving him a teary-eyed smile. "New Year's brings up a lot of stuff."

"No need to be sorry," he said, taking his coat and draping it over her shoulders. "Just happy you trust me enough to share."

He tilted his head back, hoping to get a better view of her under the solitary lamp illuminating the dark corner of the porch. His heart sank as Michonne's tear-drenched lashes fluttered, trying to keep the waterworks at bay. After a month of aborted attempts, he'd _finally_ asked her out; she'd agreed. So quickly in fact that he hadn't had to use any of the reasons _why_ he'd come up with to convince her. Her simple "ok" had taken him – albeit pleasantly – by surprise.

Michonne had quickly caught on that Rick's objective was more than neighborly, but _how_ he'd shown up for her the past several weeks had opened her heart and mind to the possibilities. He'd take the prior week off from work, but instead of completing outstanding home improvement projects as planned, he'd volunteered to watch Andre while Michonne prepared a brief for her new client.

She'd seen the wheels turning as he tried to come up with a way to ask her out _without_ making her feel obligated. It was sweet. So sweet that she decided to listen to her gut and give him a chance. So when he'd asked, she'd simply agreed, letting the butterflies and doubts wash over her, but focusing on Mike's command that while she was allowed to morn, he expected her to build a _whole_ life for herself and their son.

Did he push too hard? They'd snuck off to get away from the well-meaning yet prying eyes tracking their every interaction. A light-hearted conversation had ensued in a cozy corner of her foyer, culminating in Rick asking,

"Got any New Year's traditions?"

The innocent question led to her escape to the porch. He'd gamely followed, hoping to remedy any damage his innocuous question may have caused.

"I think Sasha might even _like_ me," Rick stated, hoping some teasing would tamp down the uneasy air surrounding them. "Just a _little_ bit, at least."

Michonne couldn't help chuckling over her best friend's complete lack of subtlety. She probably _should_ be embarrassed, but it was just Sasha being… Sasha. Black ice and blocked roads had prevented Rick from driving he and Carl down to Florida to celebrate the holidays with his parents and his brother, so he had not-so-reluctantly accepted Michonne's invitation to share the holiday with her parents, Mike's mom, and Sasha, who's own parents were on a retirement cruise around the world and 'having the time of their lives,' as she'd stated with an elegantly executed eyeroll.

It had been an interestingly awkward dinner. Sasha, who had sensed a little something _extra_ in her best friend's voice during all those calls referencing 'the neighbor down the street,' stayed in perpetual side-eye mode. Luckily, Rick had brought along another snow-bound orphan in his colleague Abe Ford, a profane, carrot-topped force of nature Sasha surprisingly took an interest in and who also helped bring down the suspicion-meter regarding Rick's intentions towards Michonne and her godson.

Rick found Michonne's parents to be a delight, clearly happy to see signs of their daughter's once vibrant spirit make an appearance. Rick's interest in Michonne had only heightened over the few months since Halloween and he was more than a little nervous to be around Mike's mom. But Brenda Anthony, a tiny, boundlessly energetic woman, had literally welcomed him with open arms, her hug nearly squeezing air from his lungs.

Mrs. Anthony also found a fan in Carl, who along with Andre, spent much of the evening being regaled with stories about her years as an illustrator for some of their favorite children's books. Thankfully, she'd also worn out the boys and though they had plotted to stay up late, both fell asleep before the clock struck 10.

Michonne wasn't sure _why_ she'd reacted as she did. Stilling the swing with the tip of her boot, she drew her hand across her face, feeling the gritty sensation of salt beneath her fingertips as she wiped the tears away. Mike had died just before the New Year and there was something fundamentally heartbreaking about realizing that yet another year had passed without him in her world. But life moved on, even when she begged otherwise.

"Even at his weakest, his only goal was to make me happy, make me laugh. Andre is truly his father's son, such a big-hearted pleaser! I was the worrier. I think I did enough of that for _all_ of us. He wasn't Pollyanna, but he was… such a positive force. I know he was probably scared at the end, but so focused on making sure Andre and I were gonna be alright. I wanted to take care of him, but he wouldn't, maybe couldn't, let me."

"Sounds like a pretty brave guy."

"He was," Michonne said, smiling through her tears. "Considered everyone a friend. He got that from his mom. That woman's forever looking out for others. She's the one that convinced me to move closer to _my_ parents, even though it meant she wouldn't see Andre as often. Mike's dad passed when he was 18, so she's all alone in that big ole house. But she'll _always_ be family."

Rick slowly rubbed her shoulder, willing her to continue.

"That last day, I– I just couldn't bear the thought of Andre being there when his father passed, so my mom took him home. Mike got _really_ quiet. I looked up at him and he had this look in his eyes… I can't really describe it. He looked… peaceful."

"I was this studious… just a nerd; not exactly a 'good time' girl. I used to tell him that _he_ flipped a switch in me that brought in so much light that I began to see _everything_ differently. The last thing he said to me was 'you always had the light, I just showed you were the switch was.' I know he wanted a full life for me, love and happiness, someone to help raise Andre into the man he would have proudly called 'son.'"

Tears distorted her view of him, but she could _still_ make out the tender compassion in his eyes.

"It's not fair," Rick murmured, reaching over to grab her trembling hand. "But know that you and Andre are surrounded by love. Felt it _all_ night. Everyone in there's got your back, and so do Carl and I."

Somehow, they'd become tangled in each other's lives without much discussion or intent. As she looked over at him, she saw an empathetic soul with a longing that mirrored her own. She studied him further, fascinated by the way the moonlight turned his crystal blue eyes to cobalt, and how he'd shaved _just_ because she'd uttered out loud, after a few glasses of wine when the boys had fallen asleep during a movie, that she wondered what he looked like beneath 'all that hair.' As it turned out, even more handsome.

Cheers and whistles promptly brought their attention to the front window. The distinct echo of boots striking hardwood floors followed, signaling the party would soon join them on the porch.

"Happy New Year Michonne," Rick said, hastily pulling her into a side hug.

She leaned against his shoulder, peering up into his eyes. His thumb drew a path from her temple to her chin, paving a tunnel through her tears. He leaned down, his face nearing hers as she tried stilling her pounding heart. Just as his lips touched hers, she leaned in, parting her lips slightly to receive the softest, most delicate kiss of her life. He lingered for an instant, wanting to savor the fleeting moment, but not make her give more than she felt able.

"Happy New Year Rick," Michonne whispered, folding into the comfort of his arms.


	5. A Little Too Old to Trick-or-Treat?

**A/N** : This was originally posted as a one-shot for a Halloween prompt from richonnejustdesserts. Check out their tumblr and ff (richonnewritingnetwork) pages!

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"Andre Anthony!" Michonne shouted, stumbling on the slick hardwood floor as she chased the wet, naked toddler down the long hallway. "Get back here now!"

He turned back to look at her, gleeful eyes grounding her in place as his mischievous grin tugged at her heart. The two years since Mike's death had been the most brutal, numbing of her– _their_ entire lives. Over a year of waking to her own tears soaking the blankets shrouding her underfed, sleep-deprived body had morphed into months of mornings being roused by cheerful laughter emanating from her rambunctious baby boy.

Today was Halloween and her energetic imp had tickled her awake as if it were Christmas morning. His infectious excitement carried them through the day as they carved lopsided pumpkins, filled a comically enormous bowl with assorted treats, and meticulously decorated their front porch with spiderwebs and skeletons.

All the activity made a bath necessary and after the end of Andre's tub-time, he'd insisted on retrieving the clawed gloves Auntie Sasha had expertly fashioned to accompany his costume. Seeing the bright smile on his face warmed her from the inside out, making it impossible for Michonne to willfully tap down his enthusiasm.

After all, this had been Mike's favorite holiday too. The elaborate couples' costumes he would sweet-naturedly charm her into wearing had created distinct memories she could hold close for the rest of her life. Cleopatra and Mark Antony. Samson and Delilah. She was _always_ his strong, resilient warrior.

It had been forever since _she'd_ felt like his fearless fighter. The return of his illness had dropped her into depths of despair from which salvation seemed unreachable. But she had this tender-hearted boy to raise, who they'd agreed was the very best parts of both of them.

"Sorry Mommy," he pouted, dropping his head as he bounced from one foot to the other. "Wanna make sure I put it on 'fore trick treaters come."

He stepped on the tips of his toes, reaching over to the console in the foyer to grab the box holding the gloves for his costume.

"Ok baby," she gently said, smiling as she dropped to her knees and opened the towel in her hands.

He ran back, jumping into her arms as she peppered his baby-soft face with kisses until he squirmed to be released.

"Ready for treat trick Mommy?" he asked, cupping her face with his little hands.

She nodded, wrapping the towel around his still damp body before lifting him up and carrying him to his room.

…

As soon as she dropped him at his door, he scurried to his dresser, opening the lowest drawer and pulling out his favorite T'Challa underwear. He slipped them on, then turned to his mother, waiting expectantly for her to help him put on the rest of his outfit.

Michonne opened his closet door, pulling out the garment bag carrying the costume Sasha had painstakingly made for her favorite nephew. Unzipping it, she pulled it out and turned to gauge Andre's reaction.

She closed her eyes as tears slipped past her lids. If she could have bottled his expression and saved it forever, she would have. Silently, he clasped his hand over his mouth as he stared at the meticulously crafted creation.

He held his arms up as she helped him slip his little legs into the bottom half of the suit, before gliding it up his torso and spinning him around to zip the back.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, stepping back and spinning him towards the mirror. " _You're_ Black Panther."

She watched Andre's eyes widened, his little eyebrows rising so high she could easily count the creases on his forehead.

"I am, Mommy," he whispered, tilting his head to look up at her with awe-filled eyes.

…

"Remember, _I_ answer the door," Michonne began, looking down at an eager Andre while adjusting her gold collar. "But _you_ get to hand out the candy."

Andre nodded solemnly, laser-focused on the overflowing bowl next to the front door. He'd insisted on matching outfits, having spent what turned out to be a _very_ long week vacillating between Shuri and Okoye, finally deciding his fierce mother was Okoye; ready to battle evil by the Black Panther's side.

Michonne glanced at the hallway mirror, taking in the red faux-leather breastplate Sasha had painstakingly drafted, cut out, and hand-delivered with _explicit_ instructions on how to sew everything together. Sasha's design sensibilities hadn't rubbed off on her, but the hours spent in high school sewing her best friend's artistic creations _had_. So while fairly adept at following the directions, she couldn't have put together such an ensemble without Sasha's inventive flare – and latent OCD – driving the endeavor.

The bell rang, startling her and drawing a loud giggle from Andre.

"It's showtime!" Michonne exclaimed, squeezing his hand as she walked to the door.

Andre anxiously hopped up and down as she reached over his head and opened the front door. She tried to swiftly absorb the scene in front of her, shifting between one partially masked pair of crystal blue eyes to another, observing what could only be father and son.

"Trick or Treat!" the young boy enthusiastically chirped.

"Mommy!" Andre exclaimed, squeezing around her legs to stand in front of the visitors. "He's Black Panther _too_! I told you there'd be another one!"

Michonne laughed as Andre made his way over to the little boy who'd been partly obscured by his father, but now stood proudly in front. As the boys admired each other's outfits, Michonne turned her attention to the father, who slowly lifted the glass panel of his Iron Man helmet to reveal a tangle of damp curls plastered to his forehead.

"Boy, didn't take into account how _hot_ this thing was gonna be," he announced, sweeping the curls from his forehead. "I'm Rick and that's Carl. I believe we're neighbors. Just moved up the street."

"Nice to meet you," Michonne smiled, leaning out of the doorway to take his outstretched hand. "I'm Michonne and _my_ Black Panther is Andre."

"Did a fine job with that," he quietly said, conspiratorially leaning in and closing the space between them. "Pretty sure Carl's gonna be talkin' 'bout it for _weeks_. I got his online, but yours… Wow. _Both_ of yours are awfully impressive."

His eyes quickly scanned her body, before making their way back up to her eyes.

"No, no, no" she giggled, shaking her head and gesturing between herself and Andre. "All of this is the work of a very good, very talented friend. _I_ probably would've been knee-deep in the sales bin at Walmart."

"Sounds like a good friend."

"She is," Michonne quietly replied.

"Don't tell me you're all decked out and only handing out candy," Rick exclaimed, turning to watch the boys showing of their best moves on the porch.

"Andre was _really_ excited about his costume. Less so about going out. I guess we're homebodies… Plus, I'm pretty sure he _thinks_ there's gonna be a lot left at the end of the night. He turns three in December and doesn't remember last year when the neighborhood cleared us _out_ by 8pm."

"I know how that is," Rick said, nodding slowly. "Carl turned seven in June and _still_ talks about how we didn't get out early enough last year, leading to his 'diminished haul.' Not even sure where he got that from, to tell the truth. Had to promise this year we'd head out as soon as the sun set."

"Andre's started remembering stuff like this," Michonne said wistfully, eyes dropping to her shiny patent leather boots. "Figured this would be a good year to start doing it up."

"Loved that age," Rick said, noting the caution in her eyes as she brought them back up to meet his. "Wish I coulda' kept Carl there a bit longer…"

"Well, you seem to be doing just fine," Michonne noted, watching Andre show Carl how the claws were attached to his gloves.

Rick turned to look at the boys.

"Wasn't really sure Black Panther was, you know, _appropriate_ for Carl. But it _is_ his favorite character…"

"It's appropriate for _any_ kid who loves the character."

The air stilled between them as they quietly gazed at each other. Something about the twinkle in Rick's eyes calmed her in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. She didn't quite know what to make of it.

"Carl _loves_ the comics, but I'm terrible with stuff like that. Can't keep the characters straight to save my life. I only picked Iron Man 'cause that's the one I usually remember. I'm a disappointment to my seven year old."

"Then lucky for you, Carl now has neighbors well-versed in _all_ things Marvel. He'll _never_ have to suffer in silence again."

"Wanna go trick-or-treating with us?" he asked, laughing at her teasing dig.

She was fun. He could get used to this.

"Aren't you a little too old to be trick-or-treating?" she smirked, pointing at the plastic pumpkin in his hand.

He grinned, eyes falling to the ground, before rising and getting lost, once again, in her dazzling smile. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had registered in his consciousness like this. Maybe this was the fresh start _he_ needed too. He looked over at Carl, bending down so Andre could whisper into his ear.

"Nah," Rick replied, biting his bottom lip as he turned his full attention back to Michonne. "Never too old for a little bit'a fun."


	6. Epilogue

"Andre Anthony Grimes!" Michonne called out, turning the corner into the living room, a drowsy Judith on her hip, her little arms loosely draped around her Mama's neck.

She pulled her baby girl across her chest, taking a moment to kiss the thick, downy curls covering her head. Her heart swooned as the current baby of the household softly sighed, then tucked her head under the cozy nook of Michonne's shoulder.

Leaning against the arched doorway, she watched Andre quickly turn towards her, before turning back around so that Rick could zip up his costume and spin him around for Michonne's inspection. She smiled, watching the toasty flames from the fireplace envelope two of her most favorite people in an ethereal glow.

"You look _so_ pretty Mom," Andre said, excitedly clapping his hands and finally rousing his sleepy sister.

"She does, doesn't she," Rick murmured, turning to gaze back at his wife.

As Carl nodded his agreement from the couch, Judith squirmed out of her mother's arms and ran to the waiting arms of her eldest brother, who promptly lifted her onto the couch and pulled her to his side.

"Thank you babies," Michonne replied, walking over to take the spot on the other side of Judith.

"And _you_ look so handsome son," Rick said, taking a knee and giving Andre an eye-level smile. "Can't see how _anyone_ beats the Grimes' this year. We got this thing on lock!"

"Daaaaaad!" Carl groaned, the ten-year-old never missing an opportunity to needle Rick on _any_ attempt at contemporary slang.

Andre, chest puffed up, opted to ignore his big brother's' grumblings and instead gave his father a smile teeming with pride. It'd felt like _forever_ , but his favorite holiday was finally here and this time, it had been _his_ turn to pick their costumes.

Year two of Sasha's extravagantly themed Halloween party – this year's being _The Family Who Plays Together…_ – had put a bit of pressure on the six-year-old. Luckily, big brother Carl had happily guided him to the _perfect_ idea.

Shortly after Sasha eloped with the loveable red-headed menace on their first official date, a not-so-quiet rivalry began. Michonne may have been the only one _not_ shocked by the lightning speed of their courtship, but that was only because she knew Sasha so well. The tough, sarcastic exterior shielded the softest heart Michonne knew. She'd immediately sensed the same in Abe: two halves of the same coin, just like Rick and herself.

She wasn't even surprised at how Abe had deftly convinced her citygirl-for-life best friend to move her _whole_ existence to their small town, nor by how well Sasha had taken to their slower-paced life. At the end of the day, Sasha was like her, searching for solid ground; she'd found it in Abe.

What _had_ shocked her was how _promptly_ Sasha switched her Halloween allegiance from guaranteeing Michonne and Andre have the fiercest costumes, to ensuring she and Abe were recognized for the sheer epic-ness of their costumes. Luckily, friendship could sometimes override a new hubby, so Sasha was quick to assist the Grimes' on the final touches. But as Michonne bragged, she no longer _needed_ Sasha when she had the 'fabulous' ideas of certain young Misters Grimes. Between Andre and Carl, she figured they had ideas for years to come.

Still, she didn't have the heart to tell her boys that Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI, complete with what was sure to be insanely period-specific accessories, could _potentially_ trump their more upbeat interpretation of the theme. Sasha's macabre choice notwithstanding, the Grimes would need a bit of luck to get past the dynamic duo.

Rick turned to look up at his gorgeous wife, extended tummy visible through her spandex bodysuit. Walking over and sitting in the empty spot next to Carl, Rick patted his thighs, beckoning her to sit on his lap. As Michonne rose to grant his wish, Andre took her spot, helping Carl secure the black mask over the face of a skeptical Judith.

"It's starting to feel like I'm _always_ pregnant on Halloween," Michonne whispered, leaning over and wrapping her arms around Rick's shoulders. "I hope you're not planning on making this a habit."

"Well, _Mrs. Incredible_ ," Rick teased, shrugging as he planted a kiss on her shoulder. "With you looking like you do in these outfits, can't expect a man to make promises."

"Mom?" Andre interjected, shifting Michonne's attention from Rick. "Do you think Judy'll remember _this_ Halloween? She doesn't remember last year and I _really_ want her to remember this one."

"I do 'member!" Judith protested, tugging the itchy mask onto her forehead.

"Aw baby," Michonne cooed, reaching past Carl to rub Judith's head before cupping Andre's chin and lifting his eyes to hers. "See? She _does_ remember. It's just that memories are more like _feelings_ when you're little. When she gets older, she'll start _remembering_ more of the details."

Andre nodded, knowing that's how it was for him when he thought about his Daddy Mike in heaven. He couldn't remember this man who his Mom had a book full of pictures of, but he could _feel_ him when he looked at the pictures. And that feeling made him warm and happy inside.

"If we keep telling her about, she'll remember right?" Carl asked, probing his Dad for confirmation.

"She will," Rick said, nodding as he pulled Carl in for a hug.

He kissed the top of Carl's head, drawing a smile from the pre-teen's lips, even as a deep blush reddened his cheeks and ears. He was growing up, but thankfully, didn't mind the affection everyone in their household was always eager to share.

Michonne laughed, shaking her head in wonder at how her _entire_ world ended up being these four… soon to be five, souls on display right in front of her. Rick turned to look up at her, catching the gleam in her eye. She bent down to drop a kiss on his lips, inhaling his singular scent, the one that would always remind her of home.

"I'll help them put on their jackets," Carl interrupted, turning towards his brother and sister.

Michonne watched the three leave to get the jackets she'd organized by the front door. She released a blissful sigh, leaning into Rick once more. She looked around the home they'd built, already overflowing with so many magical, happy moments. She never would have imagined being able to move on from her loss. But she had, and so had Andre. They were happy, healthy, and most of all, surrounded by love, exactly like Mike wanted.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so cocky about winning this year. You seem to be forgetting that Sasha and Abe handed us our _lunch_ last year."

"Nah, I remember. I just think we have the perfect theme this year. Meeting you and building this life together… if that's not _incredible_ , I don't know what is."

Michonne rested her head on his cheek as he palmed her belly. Meeting Rick had been a call to her soul. A chance to lay down her fears and stand in the sun once more. This man had brought sweetness to the bitter she'd been given, showing her joy was still possible. They'd only just begun crafting memories and gratitude overwhelmed her; she savored every single one.

Hearing impatient rumblings from the foyer, they reluctantly rose from the sofa.

"Do you think we're _ever_ gonna have a Halloween where I'm _not_ in spandex or some related form?" Michonne joked, taking his hand as they walked to the front door.

Rick squeezed her hand, causing her to stop and turn towards him. He looked his wife up and down, his tongue running across his pretty pink lips.

"Sweetheart, not if I got anythin' to do with it."

* * *

 **A/N** : Sorry for the delay. No good reason aside from my ridiculous aversion to editing.

As always, thank you for reading!


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